


Voyeuristic Intentions

by OfficialStarsandGutters



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Avatars, M/M, Phone Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:40:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24327427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialStarsandGutters/pseuds/OfficialStarsandGutters
Summary: “Peter, my dear, given the frequency of which we do this, you’d think your phone sex decorum would have improved.”“Yes. You’d think.”“If you give me some of your words, I’ll give you pretty sounds in return.”“And which words are those?”
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 21
Kudos: 206





	Voyeuristic Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> This was just meant to be a quick pwp oneshot because I realised with being able to see through other people's eyes, Elias could watch Peter in mirrors through his eyes.
> 
> But there's some tiny subtle soft moments dropped in because I have... some feelings about these two bastard old men.
> 
> Also dedicating this one to Ali for encouraging my nasty trash Lonely Eyes thoughts.

Peter closes the door to his cabin behind him with a soft sigh. He loves being at sea. The expanse of sky and waves meeting in an almost incomprehensible line, stretching endlessly in every direction: it reminds him of The Lonely. Especially in early morning fog. The only drawback is that for a ship to sail smoothly, it needs a crew. People packed into his floating solace. It is a relief to close himself into his quarters for the evening and know he is free of questions and faces for today.

Peter crosses to the bed and sits, tugging his heavy boots off. Across from his bed is a large, ornate mirror. A gift from Elias. Stretching from floor to ceiling of his cabin with a dark wood frame, a detailed eye carved at the top of it. Peter’s reflection also proceeds to drag his boots off and drop them to the floor with a thud.

He’s reaching for the hem of his jumper when his phone rings. Peter smirks, knowing who it is without having to look. He glances up and meets the gaze of his reflection, quirking a brow in silent question. He hits the answer button and raises the phone to his ear.

“What ever is that look for?” Elias’ voice is smooth and clear across the line, the softest tinge of scolding to his tone.

“Already? I’ve barely sat down.”

“Yes, but I’ve been waiting all evening.”

Elias would swear profusely that he does not _pout_ , that pouting is childish and unbecoming and he would never lower himself. Peter knows better, and Peter can practically hear the pout in his tone right now.

“Patience is a virtue,” Peter says. Grins to himself as he imagines that pout shifting to a scowl. He glances down at the ring on his left hand; the jewel encrusted eye staring back.

“Don’t. Look at the mirror. I want to see all of you.”

“Maybe I’m tired.” Peter flops back onto the bed and drapes a forearm over his eyes. Elias growls in irritation and he has to fight down his smile.

“Too tired for me, Peter? Now we both know that’s not the case.”

“We don’t all get to lounge around behind a desk all day.”

“You doth complain, darling, but you choose to be out there. You could just as easily be here right now.”

“And where is _here_ , exactly? Your little looking trick only goes one way.”

“Ah, yes. It does, doesn’t it? Silly me. Then again, perhaps you’re _too tired_.”

“Perhaps. Good night, then.”

“You’re no fun.”

Peter can definitely hear the scowl in his voice now, and he doesn’t hide the low, rumbling chuckle it draws for him. Elias sighs in his ear. It’s from irritation; but a low, quick exhale of air from his husband is still enough to stir a slow warmth in Peter’s stomach.

“You should know that by now. You’ve married me enough times.”

“And once again I’m questioning that decision.”

“You never question any of your decisions,” Peter says, smiling light and easy. Amused by how quickly Elias gets worked up.

There’s some shifting and huffing from the other side of the line, and he knows that Elias is considering hanging up on him in a huff. Except if he _has_ been waiting for this call, that means he’s probably been turned on for some time. Is it worth abandoning his booty call to make a point?

Peter waits, counting in his head. _One, two-_

“No,” Elias says after a beat. “No, I don’t.”

“That’s why we have so many divorces. If you thought things over-“

“You’ve gone from making a point to dangerous territory, Peter. Stop while you’re ahead.”

As fun as the teasing is, there’s coldness in Elias’ tone now. A warning sign. The steel beneath the silk. Peter pushes himself back up and meets his gaze in the mirror. He stays quiet.

“Better,” Elias says.

This time the sigh is softer. Peter cannot feel the presence sharing his eyes. That’s not how Elias’ power works. There’s no way for him to know just how Elias is borrowing his own sight to assess his reflection right now, but he’d almost swear he can feel it. Shifts so his thighs are slightly more spread at the thought.

“Yes. Good. Spread your legs for me,” Elias says, voice a low purr in his ear now that Peter is playing along with him. “You’re getting quite a bit of colour to your face.”

“Wind and sun,” Peter says, his own voice more husky than usual as he feels prickles of arousal starting beneath his skin.

“It suits you. Push your hair back for me.”

“Say please.”

“ _Peter._ ”

Peter’s lips part. An electric shock of sensation shooting up his spine at the bark of command in Elias’ voice. He reaches up and runs a calloused hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. Elias hums his pleasure down the line.

“Good boy. Now tighten, and pull.”

It’s not quite the same as Elias’ hand in his hair as Peter tightens his own fingers, feels the hairs pulling sharply away from the scalp. He knows the movements he’s going to take, it’s not the same surprise, but it’s satisfying in a different way to know Elias is telling him what to do. He yanks his head back at an angle.

“You’re starting to get scruffy. You’ll have to at least trim that when you get back.”

“Have you just called to criticise me?” Peter asks, still holding his head back.

“Mm. Not just that. Put the headphones in to free up your other hand.”

“So bossy,” Peter says, but obediently gets the wireless headphones Elias had given him from beside his bed, turning them on and connecting to his phone before he slides them into his ears.

“Better. Stand up and take your top off.”

The steady, warm thrum starting at the base of his cock stops any backtalk from Peter. He stands and pulls his jumper off over his head, careful not to knock the headphones loose.

“Look yourself over for me.”

Peter does. He got over the embarrassment of assessing his naked form a year into his first marriage to Elias. Conditioned to just soak in the arousal of knowing Elias is watching. Confirmed by the wet sound of Elias audibly licking his lips, intimately close now that Peter has switched to headphones.

“Good boy, Peter. You’re behaving so well for me now.”

Peter can hear shifting. The movement of fabric. Elias undressing as well, then.

“To answer your earlier question,” Elias says. “I’m in bed. Just wearing that little silk robe. You know the one.”

“I do,” Peter agrees. Elias usually wears that particular garment when he’s not intending to stay covered for very long. The memory of his slim thighs beneath it enough to have Peter shifting his weight to rub his own thighs together.

“Oh dear, are your trousers starting to get a little tight, Peter?”

“A little.” Peter laughs, but it’s got a breathy edge to it.

“Let’s fix that, then. Take them off. Slowly.”

“I thought you’ve been waiting,” Peter says as his hands go to his belt. “You sure you want me to go slow?”

“Absolutely certain.”

Peter huffs in amusement as he peels his belt from the hoops on a slow, smooth motion.

“Fold that over and whip your thigh,” Elias says suddenly, voice soft but dangerously firm. Peter doesn’t even hesitate to follow the order. Grunting when the impact lights a line of pain across his left thigh. “Good boy. So good for me. If you were here right now, I might reward you kneeling between those strong thighs. A shame you’re not.”

Peter smirks. As much as the words spark longing in him, this is just as good. Sometimes it makes his head fuzzy with static having someone crowding into his space. As good as Elias’ hands and mouth might feel on him, the moment it’s over he can sometimes feel claustrophobic, suffocated. They work well like this. Elias a voice in his ear. Watching him through his own eyes.

“Hit the back of your thigh this time.”

“I thought you wanted me to undress?”

“In a moment.”

Peter rolls his eyes. Hears an annoyed huff in his ear.

“Don’t do that,” Elias says. “It makes me woozy when I’m not prepared.”

That surprises a genuine laugh out of Peter: a gruff, bark of a sound.

“Oh shut up,” Elias says. “Are you going to do as I say or what?”

“Anything for you, darling,” Peter says, candy sweet words laced with sarcasm. Distracts Elias from any retort by whipping the belt against the back of his right leg this time. Exhaling sharply. A soft moan in his ear as he does so.

“God, if only I could have that belt in my hand right now. I’d bend you over that horrid little bed and paint you in lovely red welts.”

“What’s wrong with my bed?”

“It’s small, the sheets are stale, and it’s horribly uncomfortable. I’ve been in that feeble excuse for a bed before, Peter. Is it any wonder you have a bad back.”

“I think it’s more to do with age than-“

“You’re getting sidetracked.”

“You’re the one who-“

“Trousers off.”

Peter grumbles but pops the button of his trousers and pulls the zip down.

“Slower.”

He almost rolls his eyes again but catches himself in time. Hooking his thumbs beneath the waistband of his trousers, Peter slowly slides them down over his thighs. Doesn’t know what Elias gets from this. He isn’t like the bodies Jonah chooses to shift from - deceptively slight, delicate, forms that disguise his strength; pretty, dainty forms - he is stocky. Thick thighed, bulked out with subtle muscles from years of heavy lifting and working on boats, square shouldered, wide set. He’s sure he doesn’t cut half as pretty a picture as Elias, but the approving hum his husband gives across the phone suggests he has no complaints. Who is Peter to question his tastes at this point?

“Look at your cock straining against your underwear like that. Is it hard for me, darling?”

“You can see that.”

Elias clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth.

“Peter, my dear, given the frequency of which we do this, you’d think your phone sex decorum would have improved.”

“Yes. You’d think.”

“If you give me some of your words, I’ll give you pretty sounds in return.”

“And which words are those?”

“ _Peter._ ”

“Yes. I’m hard. Been getting there since you told me to grab my hair.”

“A little bit of hair pulling is all it took?”

“More your voice. Always feels so close like this. Like you’re right in my head. Swear I can feel you behind my eyes - know I can’t actually, but - yeah. Kind of all consuming. Like you’re inside me.”

“And that turns you on?”

Peter drops his trousers to his ankles and starts to step out of them, meeting his gaze in the reflection as he does so.

“Sometimes I like the idea of you taking control. Just… falling away inside myself as you take over.”

There’s a pause while Elias considers that, and Peter’s cheeks feel warm. Concerned he said too much, was too… _vulnerable_ in what he said. The kind of thoughts that swirl in his head like the grey mist of the Lonely. Seldom voiced, let alone to Elias.

“You find human company so distasteful you even want to escape your own?” Elias’ voice is soft and quiet when it comes again. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Well, I can’t do that, but you can be my puppet anytime, darling. With my words as your strings. Touch yourself. Ah-ah. Just through your underwear for now.”

Peter holds his gaze in the mirror as he palms himself through his underwear. Lips parting with a barely audible sigh. His calloused fingers tracing the length of his cock through material. 

“Look down,” Elias murmurs, directing Peter’s gaze to the movement of his reflections hand. He hears a low, soft moan from Elias: sounding much louder than it is through the headphones. “Yes, just like that. Drag your thumb across the tip. Tease it a little, like I would. Though if I were there now, with you being so good, I might just let you tie my hands behind me. See to you with only my mouth.”

Peter smirks at the memory of the last time they did that. Elias cursing repeatedly as he fumbled to get Peter’s boxers down with his teeth. Peter ending up having to help when Elias accidentally (or so he claims) pulled a mouthful of pubic hair out.

“Best use for your mouth,” Peter says gruffly, and he hears a breathy laugh from Elias.

“For you, perhaps. Mmm.”

Elias’ moan shifts into a high whine and Peter can imagine him, laid on the bed, thighs spread wide within his silky robe. Long, thin fingers wrapped around his own cock, stroking slow and teasing. Enough to take the edge off. Wouldn’t want to be ending it so soon, not when he’s making Peter move so slowly.

“Yes,” Peter says.

Elias chuckles again.

“God, I miss- your cock.” Elias is quiet for a moment and Peter wonders if he imagined the slight trip in his words. Probably. Elias is not one for stumbling over words. “Take the underwear off, now. Let me see it.”

Peter does without any delay this time, his cock heavy and dark with blood now. Without waiting for direction he reaches to pump it a few times with his fist.

“Oh. Cheeky. I didn’t say you could touch.” Elias sounds breathier, though, and amused rather than angry. Peter smirks, running his tongue along his top teeth.

“Those thick hands of yours are going to be so rough again when you get back,” Elias says, clicking his tongue against his teeth in a tut.

“You love it.”

“On _my_ sensitive skin?”

“Yes. You arch into the callouses. Practically melt with my hand around your throat.”

“Hmpf. It’s rude to point out a gentleman’s secret delights.”

“Secret delights?” Peter snorts. “You’re a kinky bastard and we both know it.”

Elias laughs, blending into another moan. Peter bites his lower lip as his own hand tightens around the base of his cock. Wishing he could see the expression on Elias’ face as he makes that sound.

“You may sit again, but keep your thighs spread. Yes, good, just like that. Mmm. You’re building muscle mass again.”

“As I said, I don’t just-“

“Sit behind a desk, yes, shut up and let me admire you. Hey! What did I say about eye rolling?”

“Sorry. Forgot.”

“I like your thighs. Strong and thick. So nice for me to grind against. So good when you grip my hips with those rough hands and pull me firmer against you.” The noise Elias makes is broken and high, either pleased by the image or touching himself just right now.

“I like that sound,” Peter admits quietly. Elias breathy giggles.

“I’m toying with my nipples. They’re so pink and pretty. Eager for your mouth. What a shame it’s so far away.”

“I’d leave beard burns all over your chest right now.”

“Yes.” The word is more hungry than irritated, and Peter swallows, moves his hand a touch faster. “Bite marks too, I hope.”

“If that’s what you wanted.”

“Yes. When you get back I want you to cover me in marks everywhere that isn’t visible.”

“So when you go into the office all proper and composed in your pretty suits-“

“No one will know I’m painted in your marks like a common harlot, yes.”

“That’s a lot of biting.”

“Not just biting. Want you to slap me. Whip me. Grip me so hard your nails leave crescent marks and your fingertips burn bruises into this body.”

“Fuck, _Elias_.”

“That too, of course. Eventually. I’m going to need you to clear a day when you get back. Want to take it slow. Want you to make me really need it before you get me off.”

“Make you beg?”

A derisive huff, even after those words draw a needy moan from Elias.

“If I ever beg, it’s only for show, darling.”

“Of course.”

“But if that’s what you wanted to hear, if that’s what would get you to finally stretch me open…”

“How generous of you.”

“I know, right? I’m a saint.”

“Not quite the word I’d use,” Peter says, voice hoarse as he feels himself getting closer. Arching his neck with a low moan.

“Eyes down, Peter. I don’t want to miss the show. Better. Mmm.”

“You’ll be so tight by the time I get back. Have to take it so slow to prep you.”

“Actually, that won’t be a concern,” Elias says. “I’ve been… maintaining myself.”

Elias goes quiet, and Peter can hear the shift of movement across the line. Then a very purposeful _click_ near the mic, followed by the steady buzzing hum of a vibrator.

“Oh, it’s like that.”

“Yes.” Another pause, and then a long, low moan. Peter assumes from Elias pushing the toy in.

“Probably for the best. Not sure I could have been that patient if I had you laid out all pretty for me,” Peter says. It’s not true. They both know he’d be as patient as Elias asked him to be. That he’d be whatever Elias asked, but for the sake of this game, he says it.

“After so long at sea, you’d be starving for it.”

“Though not as much as you, it would seem.”

“You know I enjoy the pleasures of the world, Peter. All of them. I see no need to apologise for that.”

“I never asked you to.”

“Good.”

“I like that you’re a slut.”

Peter knows that would usually get a sharp retort or a scolding from Elias, but he’s horny now, close, and so being called names so casually just draws a whining moan from him. Panting down the line. Peter smirks. Swipes his thumb over the head of his cock and rocks his hips forward into his fist.

“Only for you,” Elias breathes, so quiet Peter almost doesn’t catch it. 

“Yes. The powerful Jonah Magnus, reduced to a whining, begging mess; just for me.”

Elias moans surprisingly loud at the use of his original name, and Peter can now hear the movement of the bed. Must be from him fucking himself with the vibrator. Peter uses the sound to match his pace to Elias’. Hips rocking up to fuck into his fist. The pressure in his low stomach building. 

“Peter, _Peter._ ”

“Yes, Elias? Or do you prefer Jonah.”

A high pitched whine this time, and then a lengthy, shuddering moan. Elias heavily panting his way through it. Moaning and moaning for what feels like an age. Peter balancing himself on the edge of an orgasm as he waits for confirmation.

“Oh Christ, that was- Come. You can come now.”

Peter grunts through his own orgasm and grabs some tissues - another gift from Elias, given with a salacious wink - to wipe himself up. He can hear Elias still catching his breath across the line. Feels almost more satisfied to have left him in that state than he is with his own orgasm. 

“Good?” Peter supplies with a crooked grin. There’s another beat before Elias answers, breathing back under control.

“Yes. That was… quite adequate.”

“Adequate.” Peter snorts. “Alright.”

“I will leave you to rest now, Peter.” Elias has his walls up again. Collected, professional facade back in place. Peter fights back the urge to sigh. “I’ll call again soon.”

“Alright. Good night, Elias. Sleep well.”

He thinks Elias will just hang up, but after a stretch of silence he says: “Thank you. After that, I will.”

Then the bleep of the call disconnecting. Peter smiles, pulling the headphones out and setting them back in their usual place. Pausing to glance at his wedding ring. He strokes his thumb along the band before gently removing it. Pressing a kiss to the jewel encrusted eye before he sits it by his bedside. Another request from Elias: so that he can check in even when Peter is asleep.

Peter cleans up and changes for bed, giving the ring a soft smile before he closes his eyes. The movement of the waves lulls him to sleep.


End file.
